The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1887-02-27
An Unexpected DenOuement.


their charm, and yours are undoubtedly good
Of their kind; but, us have previously limited,
we require something more than pretty descrip-
tion. From your writings should infer that
your life is very retired one, and that, there
fore, you have not had the opportunity of ac-
quiring the experience so necessary in n writer
of fiction. Your late attempt to put little
more. zest into your stories, by evolving a
criminal out of your inner consciousness, gave
the critics some grounds for the fun they got
out of him. He would In fact be as incapable
of the villainy attributed to him as of the ago
nies of remorse he is depicted as undergoing at
the thought Of having committed It, What we
want is truth of character, apart from which
there can be no sound morality-real men and
women whose lives we can sympathizc with or
condemn, us the case may be- Failing In this
respect, we must, regret to say, decline further
contributions from your pen"
"'Truth of character-re men and women y "
The letter, which had been read through for the
third or fourth time was putdown with low sigh,
and the speaker sat with compressed lips and
downcast eyes in troubled thought her elbows on
the table, and her chin propped on the palms of
her hands. A girl of about ninteeen years of age,
slenderly and gracefully formed, with the rare
combination of strength and sweetness in her
clear-cut features, and capabilities Of humor and
pathos In her blue-gray eyes aud sensitive
mouth
The room In which she sat was fitted up In
an unpretending way us study, and opened
into bedroom beyond. II was nearly mid
night, and warm even for the end OF June.
The French window looking on TO n balcony,
from which stone steps led down to an old-fash-
ioned garden, was open, and the perfumed air
came languidly In, as though laden with invisi-
BILE flowers. The girl presently changed her
position, lying back in her chair beyond the ring
Of light from the shaded lamp on the table, her
hands clasped above her head. In the dim
shadow her face took amore dreamy expression,
and she appeared to surrender herself to the
mystical influences of the summer night.
Wooed by the note of n nightingale In the
neighboring wood the yearning spirit in her
eyes was making to itself wings, when she was
suddenly summoned back to realities by the
sound Of light taps upon the wall of the adjoin-
ing room. She rose to her feet, keen-eyed and
alert-it was n summons she was accustomed to
respond to without a moments delay-aud
passed swiftly into the adjoining room. A
large comfortable-looking room wherein were
two beds. in one of which lay an invalid-n
woman of about forty years of age, upon whose
still beautiful face suffering had only had re-
fnng effect.
"Dear mother, can do anything-arc you In
pain" ,
getting late. is 1t not? You will not sit up much
longer, Gladys"
''Everything is SO still and suggestive can
think better at this time, dearle. But / shall
soon be In now"
"My child How grateful am that you have
the prospect of making yourself independent
by-and-by. How much 1t comforts me to think
SO What would you have done without your
gift"
cheek and smooth back her hair, as she replied,
in tone meant to seem light and careless,
"Somcthing better and more profitable. perhaps,
dearie."
"But nothing that would have given me so
much pleasure. Your mother is SO proud of
what you do"
"That's your Arcadian simplicity my dear.
am more ambitious" returned the girl her
lips curving with pathetic little smile. "Let
up your pillows There! Thatis more comfort
able, is 1t not? Try to sleep, dearie, anu dream
you have daughter who is"
"Not ambitious, Gladys"
"Well, then, possessed OF an inner conscious
ness that does not make mistakes"
Once more kissing the invalid's check, and
carefully arranging the bed curtains so as to
shade her eyes from the light burning on the
dressing table, the yGTag grl MOVED moved softly
Going toward the table, she took up some
pages Of manuscript aud glanced through them
with critical, dissatisfied eyes. "No; II will not
do" she murmured 'lIe is right, of course.
No use sending unstable goods to market y
She stood ponderng over the situation. slowly
tearing the sheets across and across. How was
she to gain the kind of experience she wanted
In her quiet village home? Her sketches OF
country life had been favorably received for
some time, and she had depended upon being
able to go on In the same way, earning suiii-
cient to give her mother the comforts neces-
sary for an invalid. That day had come the
letter intimating that change was required.
She had previously received two or three
friendly hints to the same effect, and had
endeavOred to act upon them, but, as II had
turned out, unsucccssfully. There was no mis-
taking the decided tone OF this last letter, nor
did she question its reasOnableness.
1t was characteristic of Gladys Lenster that,
having once accepted the verdict, she wasted
no time in bcmoaning her unfortunate circum-
stances. Nor did she try To console herself by
dwelling upon the thought that her work had
been allowed to be good of Its kind. 1t was
not the kind In demand, and her whole mind
was concentrated upon the one question
whether she would be able to do what was.
Her father had been Rector of Greenthorpe,
and, after his death, her mother and she had
been invited to remain at the rectory, rent free,
by his successor, family connection, who thus
satisfied his conscience that he was doing all
that could be expected Of him. The credit due
to him was somewhat diminished by the facts
that he was himself Obliged to live In warmer
climate; that the curate In charge, an elderly
bachelor with some means, preferred naVih9
rooms at an adjacent farmhouse, where hc wa,
spared the trouble OF housekeeping, ana tla'
there would have been some difficulty IN letting
the house.
Gladys, who had received solid education
from her father, would have been ready enough
to go out into the world TO earn her bread, but
she found her work at home In nursing hei
mother through an illness, which, although
pronounced incurable, might last for years, II
had been no small relief to find herself capable
of adding to their small income by her writing
md thus TO be enabled 10 remain with her mother
in the beloved old home
large, irregularly-built somewhat dilapi
dated, and sparely- furnished house, with old
fashioned flower and fruit gardens at the back
whence swing gate admitted To an elm-shaded
path through the primitive graveyard to thu
church-its ancient llchcn-clad tower, some
what aslant, and It's roof and porch showing
many sign of the efforts that had from tint
TO time been made to stay the progress o
decay.
Fronting the house, and facing the main road
was a wide lawn, with basket groups of ilower'
aud shrubbery beyond, bounded by an old moss
grown, red-briek wall, In the centre Of whicl
was high narrow openwork iron gate
"What to doY' thought GLADYS, throwing
the torn MS.--a village story IL had been labo
OF love to write.-into the waste-paper basket
II had not only been more congen.al, but NOR,
practicable, than any other work, able as sh'
was 10 do It IN the odd hours when not attend
Ing upon her mother. But II would have 10 bi
given mp, she was telling herself, unless sh,
could succeed In supplying tho new demand
"You have served an apprenticeship In givini
up, my dear" she murmured, with half smll,
and attempt at q Jest with herself. "fou ough
to he quito an adept In the noble art Of dom.
without by this tirac, you know.n
She crossed the room, pushed the window
wider open, and passed ON to the balcony, rest
Ing her arms upon |. ~ she stood gazing at TN
quiet scene before her. M'Truih OF character
real men aud women Yes; evidently what
want is to see life. Not stil life, you know,
nodding gconildentially to her old familiar friend
the walnut tree ON the lawn. "Think Of m